I’ve had a few strange dreams since I arrived in Deniliquin. I’ll publish them here over the next little while for your amusement.

The first one saw me have some (unmentioned) urgent need to get home, so naturally I borrowed a horse from the local IGA supermarket whose horses are quicker than horses from the local Coles due to the IGA staff letting the horses eat products within the store.

The horse was quick, as I was back in Canberra within the hour, dropping the horse off at the IGA in the Civic bus interchange. I walked the rest of the way home and was informed by the man at the door (who looked suspiciously like Malcolm Turnbull but had a voice reminiscent of Prince Charles) that my services were no longer required and that I should return to Deniliquin. A car had been arranged for me.

The car happened to be the old Landrover that I had for a brief period of time last year, not exactly a sight I was happy to see, but I didn’t really have a choice so I started driving to Deniliquin.

I must have taken a scenic route because there was a rather steep hill about half way to Deniliquin. It was raining and I was flagged down by two men on the opposite side of the road to a pub. The men handed me a note which had come from my parents and been flown to the pub by courier pigeon. The note informed me that I was heading to a destination (it read “Dear Samuel, you are heading to your destination. Regards, your parents.”)

I thanked the men for the note and continued driving to Deniliquin, however a bit further up the mountain the Landrover made an awful squealing noise, the gearbox vanished in to thin air along with the rear half of the vehicle, and I rolled back to the pub where the two men found the gearbox and the other half of the vehicle in a locker and decided to glue the vehicle back together.

The men then kept the vehicle, and sent me the rest of the way via courier pigeon (although I’m not sure if pigeons which are bigger than me are still pigeons).